


a reflection of the moon on the tides. it’s always her.

by blackstarenjoyer



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Slow Burn, ive never done this before leave me alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackstarenjoyer/pseuds/blackstarenjoyer
Summary: azula accompanies her father to the northern water tribe, looking to gain some sort of alliance for a war unwaged. she finds there’s more waiting for her than she’d expected.
Relationships: Azula/Yue (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	a reflection of the moon on the tides. it’s always her.

**Author's Note:**

> i have. never written a fic before leave me alone if it’s bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ozai calls azula in to request her assistance in gaining the trust of the southern water tribe. she packs for a trip to a place she’s never been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no yue in this chapter sry :(

eyelashes lift, amber eyes burning upwards as azula listens attentively and without interruption. his empty voice still hurts her ears, even after years and years of training. at least it doesn’t hurt the rest of her anymore. flame roars between them, vibrant, violent red almost tearing a rift between the two. the pulsing red whispers to her every terrible thing that has ever happened in this room, azula doesn’t mind. she pretends not to hear it, louder and louder and louder as the heat claws at her skin desperately, failing to reach under the silk that falls over her small body. her hair isn’t done, makeup left unused. she looks so horribly like her mother, kneeling and listening as if she isn’t supposed to be powerful. 

“azula, i have an incredibly important task to fulfill, and i trust you already know that zuko isn’t skilled enough to contribute anything of use to me.” 

fire roars louder, inviting.

“but you, you are much different from him. more intelligent. more,”

he pauses, thinking.

“useful.”

azula’s lips curl upwards slightly. useful.

“you will be accompanying me to the northern water tribe to handle strategy with the princess. we need them as associates to plans of which you have already been explained.”

azula remembers having been explained to. time and time again. a child amongst men, sitting boldly across from her father as he fill her ears with things she should never have known. death, war, battle. she’s attuned to what needs to be done to win and she will act on what she knows. empty, uncomfortably hot rooms filled with men arguing and moving little pieces on a board. tattered hands swatting at each other to grab tiny ships, tiny helmets, markers squeaking to mark where attacks should take place. 

“firelord, it makes no sense to place troops there, they’d be easily overpowered on the lower end of a downward slope-“

chatter, yelling, clanking of metal against metal. she can see ozais eyebrows furrow in anger, and braces herself to hear his voice. he stands, silencing the men.

“we can easily win a fight with some weak water tribe commoners. the problem we’re facing is what the other tribe will do. if we attack the southern peasants, the northerners will certainly strike us in return, or cease trade at least. one of you, speak up about how to get around our problem before i banish all of you!”

the men were silent, no longer fighting for pieces or times to speak. their eyes turned to azula as she spoke in an unbothered tone.

“make the northern tribe loyal to us before we attack the northern tribe. make it impossible for them to strike us back.”

there was no sound in the room other than the roar of the fire, whispering. she can remember how it feels every time. it feels so lonely.

“finally. an idea. all of you, leave my presence. you will not return here, that is definite.”

azula snaps back into reality by her fathers voice. 

“i expect you to be packed and ready for overseas travel by tomorrow. we will be spending an amount of time there not yet determined. pack the clothes you wish, we will buy northern tribe clothing when we arrive.”

azula’s mouth opens, words of disapproval knowing better than to spill out into air.

“or, of course, you can stay here. you can be like zuko, if you so choose.”

with closed eyes, she shakes her head.

“that’s what i expected. you’re dismissed.”

her legs lift her and move her out of the fabric doors almost subconsciously as her mind finds itself overwhelmed. she’s never even left the palace before, much less left the fire nation. she doesn’t have clothes equipped for cold or snow or even anything blue. and a princess? she barely even knew other nations had princesses. the title seemed too... formal for a place so disgusting. what strategy could she possibly have to discuss with another princess? 

the water tribes seem grossly informal to her. really, all nations other than her very own feel inherently wrong. she doesn’t want to have to converse with someone below her. she doesn’t want to have to spend months somewhere that is infinitely below her. something about those pits of ice where people lived felt unworthy of her. 

her bare feet slide across the wooden floors to her bedroom. every room in this palace seems empty, nothing more than tall boxes housing thick pillars. there’s a pit in this room, inside is a table and three cushions. there is an honest part of her that says she can’t recognize this room in the slightest. it feels empty and unfamiliar, devoid of anything at all. empty halls, lined with windows that lead to nowhere. 

she lifts her arms to tie her hair up, pulling two pieces out to frame her face. lately they feel less like a hug and more like an uncomfortable strangle. her ears reach for any sound at all, finding nothing except for her own breathing and the padding of her feet against wood. zuko isn’t awake yet.

amber eyes search her room, failing to find even a small amount of possessions to pack. her bed sits pristine in the center of her room against a wall, feet away from all of her closets and dressers. knowing there’s nothing in them that she could care to take, she lowers herself to sit on the too-large mattress. it could fit seven of her side to side and at least two of her lying horizontally underwards. trying to even visualize where she’s supposed to be in a month is difficult. aren’t the tribes just.... snow? do they have houses? igloos? maybe they don’t even have shelters, she thinks. no, that’s stupid, who would even survive that way? 

she doesn’t want to sleep in an igloo. don’t the tribes have royalty they’re required to pamper? something inside of her wretches at the thought of a large igloo as an attempt at a pampering. do they have any food other than, she really struggles to make a guess, do they have anything to eat other than fish? she hates fish. her mother had always yelled at her, the smell of that terrible thing at the dinner table. 

“azula! finish your dinner, you ungrateful child!”

her eyes would grow wide every time her mother yelled at her. heart pounding and a red burning in her cheeks from embarrassment, she nibbled at the fish as zuko laughed at her. she knew her mother was laughing too, her smile hauntingly wrong as she knows zuko is laughing too. every time zuko laughed at her, his pale, smooth skin crinkled around his eyes and nose, his smile was inarguably ugly. azula has always prided herself on never looking so horrific, never showing that terrible, terrible smile she knew she had. honestly, she still doesn’t know what her smile looks like. it just scares her to think that it might look weak like zuko’s. 

maybe it looks like her mother’s, silent and wavering. her mother never laughed as loud as zuko did, her smile reassuring what was never shown in that terrible laughing sound. azula can barely remember what ursa looks like, and she doesn’t mind. she never needed ursa, anyway.

azula grabs her golden hairpiece and tucks it into her ponytail. she figures this is all she really has to bring. there’s not a lot of items she has managed to keep after years without burning or destroying it for fun. her hairpiece is the only thing she hasn’t either lost or broken. maybe it was from spite, since she convinced herself that her mother would have expected her to destroy it. it was the only thing ursa had ever gifted her, bare and without any wrapping at all. she knew ursa gave it to her with full understanding that she would break it. maybe that’s why she never broke it. 

her robe falls heavy over her shoulders, dark red engulfing her pale skin. arms thin, taunting her for not being as strong as her father is. she looks away. it burns her heart to feel herself becoming embarrassed at her lack of physical muscle. of physical power. she wonders if the princess of that putrid piece of ice will be stronger than her. she refuses to think about it past that. refuses to think about how the princess might be taller, might be smarter, might be better. ‘it’s impossible!’ she tells herself. isn’t it?

...isn’t it?

it is. it is. she shakes her head, sinking her nails into her skin to wake herself up. it begins to bleed but she dismisses the red with her robe, a deeper red that almost challenged the blood to stain it. the morning yellow shone through the windows of the hallways just outside her room, light filtering in uncomfortably and ruining the beautiful, powerful red. her pride tells her to close the door and keep the light from her room. she doesn’t need it. but she doesn’t.

so just as she can hear the distant sounds of zuko rising from his room, she lowers her head to her pillow. amber eyes obscure from view as her eyes find themselves shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK THIS WAS SHORT BUT. FUCK OF F


End file.
